A Wilting Rose (SYOC)
by HestiaAbnegation11
Summary: Queen Alisyn (Tyrell) Targaryen faces a choice ahead of her. Play the dutiful wife, do everything as her husband says, or take a different road. Westeros is again thrust into chaos as the Lords Paramount begin to circle and see themselves and their families on the Iron Throne. SYOC Open, PM to apply.
1. Prologue I: The Garden

**_A Wilting Rose (SYOC)_**

_Prologue: The Garden_

_POV Queen Alisyn (Tyrell) Targaryen_

Her heart hammered in her breast, tears coming unbidden to her eyes. Her hands shook quietly at her sides, one hovering above a doorknob on a giant red door. Her other hand held the fabric of the black dress she wore tightly. Alisyn's hair was still done up nicely from the ball that day – when they'd hosted several high-ranking lords from some of the houses of Westeros.

Her mother had always taught her to be wary, but never paranoid. To be curious, but not questioning. Everything was fine, if no one else knew about it. _Sorry mom, _Alisyn thought quietly, _I'm not perfect. _

She grabbed the doorknob more confidently and twisted it open, being careful to be quiet at the same time. She thought she would've been angry or mad upon seeing the sight she saw, but instead it was closure, nearly relief. The sight wasn't good, to be sure, but it confirmed her suspicions.

Alisyn saw her husband's silvery blonde hair, his lithe frame that she'd gotten used to curling up into before she drifted off to sleep. Still, her heart panged for those days to return. The other figure enshrined the idea that those days would never return. Blonde hair adorned the woman who was astride him, the two sleeping and quiet.

"I'm sorry," A voice murmured from behind her. She was startled, nearly having a heart attack as she whipped around.

A man was dressed in the white robes of the Kingsguard, his eyes filled with sympathy. Ser Noland Westerling, it was, one of the recent additions to the Kingsguard.

"For what?" Her bitterness escaped in a rush, her arms folding across her chest. "Not telling me about this, for what I'm sure has always been happening? Not warning me before I married him and gave him a child? Not telling me that he desired other women even when we got married? What is it, _ser?" _The last word wretched from her throat like a curse.

"All of them, my Queen," His whisper carried through the hall, gently wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "What can I do to help?"

She thought helplessly for a few seconds before she straightened her shoulders. "Buy me time," She said. "I'm leaving here tonight, but I need to prepare first."

"I-I can't do that," Noland said in return as they walked. "I'm a part of the Kingsguard, I'm sworn to the king, not the queen. The king requested us all to make sure that you never found out…he knew what wrath Highgarden would bring if they knew."

It filled her with pride to know that they were afraid of what her family could do. But now, she had to work with what she had. "Please, ser," Alisyn murmured. "I'm not asking you to lie for me, I'm not asking anything, just don't tell anyone where I'm at or where I'm going. Please?"

After a few long moments that seemed to stretch forever, he gave a simple nod. "Go, my Queen. You will always be my Queen."

Alisyn thanked him breathlessly before she tore off at a run towards the Queen's chambers. She bolted the door behind her, and immediately went to her closet. Black and red dresses adorned every wall. Black, red, red, black, black, and then finally, at the very back of a closet, a beautiful, simply gorgeous verdant green.

She stood in front of a mirror and slid out of the black dress she wore. She pulled on the green one instead, feeling like she was committing even a small act of rebellion by doing that. Alisyn bit her lip quietly, wondering if she should stay even then. There was no way she could bring little Jaeherys to Highgarden. Going herself would be treason, but to bring the heir to the throne would be an even bigger one.

No, she instead stared at herself in the mirror. Memories began to dwarf her actual thoughts, losing her focus.

_ She was laughing, passing through the crowds towards the ceremony. A bright smile adorned her face as she waved to the crowds of people, seeing the dark Targaryen dragon and the bright Tyrell rose entwined on the banner ahead. The people smiled and waved back, enjoying seeing a Queen being formally married to new ruler._

_ Her rivals, those that had been courting the prince as well as her, were all sitting in the front row. Lady Lannister, Lady Baratheon, and Lady Martell. The golden-haired Lannister watched with a forced smile, while the Baratheon grinned and waved, her only ally. The regal Dornishwoman simply smiled and stared ahead. _

_ Alisyn saw him. He was handsome, and muscular. She would never forget that night, Alisyn knew. She was lucky, she knew that too. No one else would have the level of power that she did in a few simple days. _

Now, tears fell down her face as she remembered the deterioration. At first, they'd both shared the King's quarters. Then, once she'd given birth, she'd moved back to the Queen's rooms, and had never been invited to stay there again.

She remembered the words of the women she'd asked for advice. _Other Queens have dealt with worse, _the septa had said. _Consider yourself lucky, you have less time to spend with him, _Lady Arryn had told her. Maybe she just wasn't strong enough.

She opened the windows out of the quarters, seeing that it was a slight climb to the bottom, but she would manage. She placed her feet on the smooth stone and glided down. Alisyn was glad that her years of climbing the gardens and various trees in Highgarden had trained her for this.

She raced to the stables, grabbing a horse and preparing to jump on. She would leave this life behind. She'd leave all this behind her. She took a deep breath and spurred the horse to a run.

**_A/N: That chapter was a bit short, but I at least wanted to get something out there. Not much plot-focus there, but there will be a description below. To those of you that submitted for Upstream: thank you. I discovered the problem was a lack of focus on plot at the beginning, but now I've got that more figured out. The submission process is different, so please check that out below the plot description below._**

Description: Robert's Rebellion fails, and the Targaryens remain in power. The White Walkers, sensing a unified Westeros, do not move against the Westerosi for now, but remain out of the picture for a while. Now, King Viserys Targaryen has married Queen Alisyn Tyrell, and gave birth to a baby boy named Jaeherys. Privately, Viserys complains that he chose wrong by picking Lady Tyrell instead of the Lannister woman.

Viserys isn't a good king, and most of the power lies in the hands of his Hand Rogyr Hightower. His brothers (could be submitted by others of you) are better candidates for the throne, despite not being the eldest. Some mutter that a war is destined to come, after the Rebellion failed so badly and the War of Five Kings didn't occur at all.

The anger of Highgarden is destined to have far-reaching effects, as some in Westeros are growing tired of what some are beginning to call 'occupation' by the Targaryens. Those concerns are loudest in the North, Iron Islands, and Dorne. Everyone has their own agendas. Where does yours fall?

As with Upstream, this submission process is different. You can submit a character by sending me a simple PM that says something like, "I would like to submit Queen Alisyn Tyrell, aged 23, current Queen of Westeros." A series of questions will flesh out the character rather than a true form. Your characters will fit within the plot, rather than the plot fitting within the characters.

Some suggested character ideas are below

Any member of House Tyrell (mother is deceased)

Lady Lannister, Aged 21

Lady Baratheon, aged 20

Lady Martell, aged 20

Any Member of House Targaryen (parents deceased)

Lords Paramount (or their heirs)

Just because these are suggestions do not mean they are set in stone! Do what you want first and foremost! I'm planning to try and update once a week at least to keep myself on schedule. Send a PM when you're ready!


	2. Prologue II: Small Council

**_A Wilting Rose (SYOC)_**

_Prologue II: Small Council_

_POV Lady Cerissa Lannister_

She blinked her eyes open, immediately feeling the coldness of the bed beside her. Cerissa simply smiled and sat up in bed, hearing the running water from the shower in the other room. She quietly slipped on the red dress that she'd brought for the next day, combing out her now-rumpled blonde hair. She'd finally done it.

Before he'd gotten out of there, there was a loud pounding on the door. "Your Grace!" The gruff voice of the Lord Commander Royce called out.

"He's busy right now," Cerissa smirked, running over and opening the door.

In a different world, Daryn Royce could've been a very handsome man. Now, from his years of serving on the Kingsguard, he was littered with scars on his cheeks and arms. His arms were nice to look at, though. His eyes weren't filled with the surprise that she had expected to see. He was well trained.

"The small council demands the presence of the King in a half hour. Orders from the Hand," He held out the slip of paper.

She took it into her hand and promised that she'd give it to Viserys, bidding him a good day and showing him out the door. She read the note, Lord Hightower not a particularly wordy man, the note extremely short. Cerissa slowly opened the door to the King's washroom. She expected him to be bare, but he was already dressed in the black and red colors of his house.

"My King," She said, inclining her head to him. "Lord Commander Royce gave me this," She handed it to him.

His purple eyes focused on the note, reading it. "Fine," Viserys cursed. Cerissa knew how much he hated to be at small council meetings. Normally, it was Alisyn who took the royal place on the council.

"Come with me," Viserys said, not a request, but an order. She smiled and nodded along.

She followed at a distance, trained to know not to appear too close to him. The small council's meeting room was not terribly far from where Viserys stayed. When her father had been on the council, she had learned exactly how to get there the fastest. When Viserys had became King, he'd dismissed her father in favor of Lord Rogyr Hightower. At the time, she had been angry, but now saw it as an opportunity.

Everyone was already present, sitting around the table with the head of it empty. The first to the right was Rogyr Hightower himself. He had a deep scowl on his face, a letter on the desk in front of him. Beside him was the Master of Laws, Lord Fossoway from Cider Hall. He looked just as angry as Hightower. The two of them were both from the Reach, and she'd referred to them as "Queen's men" before.

Beside Fossoway was the Master of Coin, the aging Lord Baratheon from Storm's End. He looked worried, casting glances to his right and left. At the far end of the table was the only lady in the room, Helaena Waters. She was Viserys' half-sister, a bastard of his father's. She was the mistress of whisperers, and she had an intrigued look on her face.

Opposite Lord Baratheon was Grand Maester Braddock, a burly man who seemed to forget everything once told to him. Next to him was the Master of Ships, Lord Velaryon. Velaryon was always nice to look at, in Cerissa's opinion. The last one was Lord Commander Royce, sitting on the opposite side of the Hand.

"What's _she _doing here?" Lord Fossoway exclaimed, staring at Cerissa with anger. "She isn't a member of the council!"

"I bid her come," Viserys said in a measured tone. In more ways than one, she thought cheekily.

She stood beside Viserys' chair, silent and waiting for what was to come.

"I got this note," Hightower threw it at the table. "From the Queen herself."

One by one, they took turns reading it. When it finally got to Viserys, Cerissa read it over his shoulder.

_My dear Lord Hightower,_

_ I thank you for your many years of service at King's Landing. On behalf of me, my father, and House Tyrell, you have served faithfully. I am going home to Highgarden. I cannot stay here and watch as my husband philanders with other women. If he gets his head right, he can come to Highgarden and entreat with father. If not, we see no reason to insist upon your and Lord Fossoway's service on the small council._

_ Regards, _

_ Queen Alisyn Tyrell_

"Gods damn you!" Fossoway shouted at Cerissa. "You foul temptress!"

Cerissa appeared shocked, but it was all going far too well. The dismissal of the lords would be better for her than for anyone else. Viserys waved a hand at the rest of them to stop their talking.

"She's gone back to Highgarden, has she?" A gleam of challenge was in Viserys' eyes. "I order the council to retrieve her by any means necessary."

Lord Hightower exploded out of his seat, sending the chair reeling back and slamming against the ground. "An invasion!" He thundered. "I _never _would've taken this position to see my region so thoroughly disregarded! Take this," He threw the pin of the Hand on the table. "And shove it up Lord Lannister's fat ass."

Cerissa smoldered, gripping the back of Viserys' chair. Lord Baratheon had the nerve to laugh, a deep belly laugh that travelled through the whole room. Lord Hightower stormed from the room, leaving the rest of them without time to respond.

"Anyone else wish to resign?" Viserys said calmly, staring each of the rest of them in the eye.

"Me," Lord Fossoway said brazenly. "Find another Master of Laws, I'm going home." He breezed out of the room with much more tact than the Lord Hightower had.

Cerissa simply smiled at the rest of them, easing into the Hand's chair without warning. The rest gawked at her but said nothing. The power had shifted in the room, for sure.

"I never," Lord Baratheon said, his hand clutching the edge of the table. "You do know how much Highgarden supplies us with? Money, food, anything that the people desire. You've infuriated the lot now. It will take a very experienced Hand to repair that relationship."

Helaena Waters watched her, causing Cerissa to shift uncomfortably. She had the silvery hair of the Targaryens, but brown eyes of wherever her mother had been from. "Dear brother," Her melodic voice travelled through the room. "You don't know what you've just begun."

"In what way?" Viserys spat. Cerissa reached under the table and grabbed his thigh, stroking lightly to calm him.

Helaena's laugh was a little, chittering noise. "You've made the largest House in the Seven Kingdoms a sworn enemy, the Ironborn continue their raiding along the western and central coasts, and there has been no word from Prince Aegon in six months! You have enemies everywhere!"

"Which will require a strong small council," Viserys said lightly, reaching down and gripping Cerissa's hand in his own. "I will appoint Lord Lannister Hand of the King, as for who should be Master of Laws, I do not know."

"We need more allies," Lord Velaryon spoke up, crossing his arms. "Helaena is right. Your brothers worry me as do they worry us all. Send word to the Prince of Dorne, maybe he can get someone to sit on the council. Between us now, we represent the Vale through Royce, Stormlands through Baratheon, Westerlands through Lannister, Riverlands through Braddock, and Dorne would make a worthy addition."

"See to it," Viserys nodded at them. "See it done."

**_A/N: Again, another short one, but I wanted to get something up to get submitting going more. I have a lot of Tyrells, so thank you for the response on that! Tyrells are full, besides cousins and bannermen. I got a handful of Targaryens, Lady Lannister, and a couple of others as well. I have been impressed with everyone's characters so far, they're all so good! I do need Lords Paramount badly, with Lord Stark, Prince Martell, and Lord Lannister being the most pressing. I will take anyone though! :D Send a PM to join! _**


	3. Chapter 1: The Other Brother(s)

**_A Wilting Rose (SYOC)_**

_Chapter 1: The Other Brother(s)_

_POV Queen Alisyn Tyrell_

Her hands shook with anticipation on the reins as she got closer and closer to her home. The massive walls of Highgarden were pristine, with the greenery flowing inside of them. The smell was distinctly of the Reach, a sweet nectary smell that filled your nostrils. It had been three years since she'd been here, and she hadn't ever been sure of when she would return. Her family…what would they think? For the first time since she'd set out from King's Landing, she wondered if she'd made the wrong choice.

Before she could even attempt to warn the guard at Highgarden she was going to need inside, the doors began to swing open slowly. She put a hand over her mouth silently as she saw that it was nearly empty, save for her family standing in a neat row, waiting for her. She dismounted and began to walk over, combing her hair behind her ears as she prepared for anything.

As Alisyn stood before them, she saw them all watching her. Her eyes began to fill with tears, and she buried her head into her father's chest the instant he took a step towards her. "We know," He whispered softly.

She felt arms wrap around her from every side, familiar yet foreign. It had been a while since she'd seen any of her siblings, most hadn't been to King's Landing since the wedding. Alisyn took a deep breath and steeled herself, straightening up tall.

"How do you know?" Alisyn asked, folding her arms around herself when they stepped back.

Her younger brother, yet eldest other than herself, spoke up. "King Viserys sent ravens to all the lords in Westeros, denouncing you for treason," Ormund said softly. "The High Septon annulled the marriage in King's Landing."

"That quick?" Alisyn's head spun, dizzy. She knew there was a possibility she wasn't going back, but she also thought Viserys might offer to take her back if he didn't have as many consorts.

"You – you should come inside," Her father said, offering his arm to her. She took it, going inside the castle.

She hadn't realized how much she had missed this place until she was inside the doors. The sweet smell, the sound of birds chirping, the green carpets and lavish walls, it all was a staple of her childhood. Little kids ran about in the lawn off to the west, and servants hurried with trays of food to be brought to guests. Alisyn couldn't help but smile to herself.

"This is where you're meant to be," Her younger brother Moryn whispered to her, squeezing her hand. When she chuckled and turned to look at him, his face was serious, more so than she had been.

"Things are dire," Her father said as they walked, his voice projecting in the joyful hall. "The Reach hasn't seen war in a great many years. Even then, we barely lifted a finger to help Prince Rhaegar. We haven't been plagued by the Ironborn like the Lannisters, Tullys and Starks, nor do we deal with pirates like the Dornish and the Baratheons. It's how we've always liked it, but now we stand at a disadvantage."

The siblings listened and followed him to a meeting room just outside of his own chambers. Inside, she was surprised to see, was nearly every important Reach lord. Hightower's son was there, as was Lords Redwyne, Fossoway, Florent, Tarly, Rowan and Oakheart. She had them memorized ever since she was little, and now it came in handy. Her siblings took the chairs that were available, and Ormund settled Alisyn into one beside him.

"I'm glad you all could make it," Lord Tyrell said, wearing regal green clothes and having an impressive stature that inspired those in the room. "We have some business to get to, as you all know."

"What are our courses of action?" Lord Tarly asked, his eyes staring at her father. He wasn't necessarily one to challenge orders, but he was one that liked to get down to what needed to be done.

"We have few options, and none are that pleasant." Her father said. "The first is that we entreat with King Viserys, hoping to get him off this rage-induced scheme to get Queen Alisyn back to King's Landing. I do not see this option as one that's particularly successful." The lords voiced their agreement. "The second is that we contact either Prince Aegon or Prince Maegel and say that we support them ascending to the throne in place of Viserys."

"Aegon is much too bitter, he is not a King of the Reach," Lord Redwyne said. "He would clash with us on every single day of policy."

"And Prince Maegel is untested, and is still a child at heart," The elderly Lord Rowan offered. "He's been in Pentos for a year, and who knows if he even wants to return?"

"Lord Rowan, we do know that he wishes to announce himself King," Lord Tyrell said. "But, the question still stands: what do we do?"

As they began to argue, Alisyn began to stop listening. Her eyes were focused upon the table. They're all arguing because of me, she thought. There isn't anything I can do to change it. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, opened her eyes to stare out at the rest of them, and slowly rose to her feet.

All the talking quieted. "To me, there is one option," She began. "We can't trust Viserys' word on anything, and we refuse to work with Aegon and Maegel. There is another we could attempt to crown."

"Who?" Lord Florent raised an eyebrow at her. "You?"

Alisyn fixed him with a sharp glare. "There is another Targaryen, but of our blood. Prince Jaeherys is still a successor to the throne and should be next in line after Viserys. We don't have control of him, but that could get at least some regions to back his claim."

There was silence for a few seconds as each of them weighed the positives and negatives of doing something that bold. Finally, Lord Fossoway spoke. "I think it's crazy enough it just might work."

"Who do we go to first?" Lord Rowan asked, folding his arms over his chest. "Or do we wait until a rival claimant pushes first?"

"We wait," Alisyn said firmly. "It only works if Aegon or Maegel is already in there. We can reach out to other Lords Paramount in secret until that happens."

Alisyn thought about who to go to first. Dorne was not an option, Prince Garin had never been overly fond of Tyrells. Lannisters were out of the question, as were Greyjoys. The Starks were too far, as were the Arryns. Only the Baratheons made immediate sense.

The meeting adjourned shortly after that, with the lords going off to their rooms, a feast planned for the day after and those that were there were invited to attend. She stayed sitting as her siblings began to shuffle out. When it was nearly empty, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," Ormund said softly, squeezing her shoulder. "Need to talk?"

She shook her head wordlessly. He looked disappointed but nodded and left the room. She set her head down on the table. _What have I done?_

_POV Lady Lyarra Stark_

She could feel the snow landing no her pale cheeks and could feel the water droplets rush down her neck and descend into the gown that she wore. Her perfectly braided jet-black hair was descending her back in a tight line. It was only becoming evening, but it was as dark as night already. The torches glowed in the night, creating an impressive layout of the grounds as the snow fell from the sky.

She rested her elbows on the wooden ledge, watching as the massive doors to Winterfell opened. Visitors? She thought. None had been expected, that much was for sure. Her father had been away to White Harbor to oversee the creation of a navy, and her brother was likely asleep by now.

Lyarra's fading grey dress fit well on her, and luckily didn't quite touch the ground, otherwise it would've gotten a layer of snow on the bottom. She headed down the stairs to meet whoever it was. Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw who stepped out.

The King, to Winterfell? She thought in alarm. No, wait. Not the King. His brother, the younger one. Lyarra had thought that Prince Aegon had been away like Maegel, in Essos. Neither brother was very tolerant of King Viserys.

Aegon was a sturdy man, slim and fit, and Lyarra could see the corded muscle beneath the tight black and red clothing he wore. He wasn't as pale as Lyarra and those that lived in Winterfell, but he wasn't as tan as the Riverfolk. He had dark purple eyes, and short cropped silver hair.

"What do we owe the pleasure of a royal visit?" Lyarra asked as she strode out to meet the guests. "Unannounced, as well."

A flicker of displeasure fluttered in his eyes. "We'd like to request a meeting with your father as soon as possible."

"Father's gone," Lyarra said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Working with the Manderlys in White Harbor. I'll see if Torrhen is ready for visitors. Before that, you can make yourselves at home. Welcome to Winterfell," She led Prince Aegon and his retinue inside of the castle, and immediately feeling better. It was warm inside, and the torches gave off more light inside than out in the dark night.

"You can stay here while I get my brother. The servants will be by with ale and food soon," Lyarra hurried off, taking stairs two at a time as she went to warn the kitchens, they had guests and would need to be served immediately.

"What do you mean?" The grumpy old woman that cooked said. "I have hardly any food to make meals, and now you want one immediately?"

Lyarra fixed her with a cold glare. "If you'd rather speak to the Prince, be my guest,"

Her eyes went wide and she immediately got to work. Good, Lyarra thought. One less thing to worry about. She raced back up the stairs, carefully avoiding tripping on her grey dress. She banged on Torrhen's door. "Brother!"

A woman opened the door, having light brown hair and warm green eyes. "Hi Lyarra," She smiled, wearing a nightgown. "What can I help you with?"  
Lady Feira was from Highgarden, a Tyrell cousin that had married her brother a few years past, in exchange for food flowing more freely up the Neck. She was much smaller than Torrhen, nearly a foot shorter than him, but her advice was second to none about southern issues.

"We have guests and Torrhen needs to see them immediately, or as soon as he can please," Lyarra told her. "They're in the hall downstairs right now."

She nodded and Lyarra sighed, heading back downstairs to talk to the Prince and whoever he brought with him. Only two of them were sitting at the table, Prince Aegon and a tan-skinned woman, and the others were off to the side of the room. Two chairs were set up opposite of them.

"What's this about?" Lyarra asked as she took a seat in one of the chairs. "I can't believe that King Viserys sent you up here to negotiate on his behalf, that'd be insane."

"No," Prince Aegon replied shortly, putting his elbows on the table. "We're here to discuss alliances with the North and be back on our way to discuss alliances with the Vale and Riverlands. We came here first because of how important the North is to us."

Lyarra laughed, throwing her head back in her chair. "You can't be serious. No, we're probably fourth or fifth on your list, but the only ones willing to listen. The Vale likes your brother more than you, the Stormlands and Reach won't talk with you, and Dorne hates you. So, few options left and we're the biggest of them left."

Aegon didn't deny it, but simply shrugged his shoulders. "You have the most to offer, and can demand the most, which is why we're here first."

She heard the heavy steps of her brother, looking up and seeing her brother Torrhen entering the room. He was a big man, nearly six and a half feet tall, with flowing black hair. He had a guarded expression as he took the seat beside Lyarra. "What do you want?" Torrhen asked gruffly.

Lyarra sat beside him, folding her hands on the table and leaning forward. A war was coming, she knew that much. Would Aegon win if he had the North? Maybe, she thought. But maybe not as well.

"Support," Aegon replied crisply. "As much as it as we can have."

Lyarra looked between the two men and realized they were more similar than they probably realized. They looked a fair bit different, to be sure, but nearly the same personality was in it. Her focus was on the lady that sat beside him. A wife? No, she didn't have a ring. Maybe a lover, Lyarra thought. She wasn't of Westeros, that was clear, since she looked around from wall to wall as if it were something foreign. Even the Dornish had heard of Winterfell.

"It's a big thing you're asking for," Torrhen replied. "Help in a war? That is the most someone can give."

"I am the rightful ruler, and the best fit for it. My brother Viserys is cruel and disliked. He raises nothing to help in the Vale against the mountain tribes, and he hasn't encouraged anyone to be sent to the Wall in years. Numbers are falling, and I'm sure the North would rather have a strong Night's Watch than what my brother has given."

"That alone won't win you our support," Torrhen frowned. "We want more."

"We cannot offer money," Aegon replied.

"You can offer marriages," Torrhen said, leaning back in the chair. "You will wed Lyarra and get the Starks into the Targaryen lineage."

For the first time, Aegon seemed surprised. Lyarra was too, at heart, but she didn't react. She knew better than to do that. The lady at Aegon's side grew pale and her hand went to his. He simply stood up.

"Is there anything else I can do that will win your support?" Aegon asked, no desperation in his voice, just a clear question.

"No." Torrhen replied, looking at the princeling.

"Then it's a deal," Aegon shook hands with Torrhen, and the lady a this side stood up and walked out. He didn't go after her. Lyarra looked down. Much had changed in a matter of minutes, and now she was being married off to a stranger. Well, she thought, that would happen anyways, but she didn't expect it would be a man wanting to be King. Things change.

_POV Prince Maegel Targaryen_

He loved Pentos. He couldn't count the number of times he had sat in his room in Pentos, allowing any number of women to run their hands through his golden locks of hair. He'd never let them go farther than that, though. He had his eyes set on a different prize.

Maegel had been close with the daughter of the Lord of the Vale when he was younger and had kept up correspondence with her while he was away. He hadn't held back on his suggestiveness, knowing she'd had a bit of a crush on him when they were younger. It was time to try to clinch that support by taking a visit to the Eyrie as soon as he could.

He had always envisioned going back to Westeros with a sellsword army, washing over the shores of the Blackwater and taking back what he imagined was his. Now, he had realized as he had grown up, there was a different way to do it. His brother Aegon had a place to begin from, as he controlled Dragonstone. Maegel had no such place and would have to earn an ally first before he could begin his war.

He had a massive map made of Westeros to be brought to his chambers, and he had used various dyes to keep track of peoples' support. It had always been a habit of his to do this, make maps and feel the paper beneath his fingers. Viserys' red spanned over the Crownlands, the Westerlands, Dorne, and the Reach. A neutral grey was over the Riverlands and the Iron Islands. A hopeful green was over the Vale for himself, and a dark blue for Aegon was on Dragonstone and the North.

"Your Highness?" He heard a voice from outside the door. "The ships are ready."

"Good," Maegel replied. "I'll be out in a second!"

He carefully folded up the map and tucked it in the bag of things he was taking with him back to Westeros. Maegel had used nearly all his coin to purchase a handful of ships to create a fleet that he didn't yet have. He took a deep breath as he prepared to open the door. If he went out, there was no going back. He could be killed, sent to the Wall, exiled if he opened the door. If he stayed in, he could have his life in Pentos, free and enjoy all the pleasures he wanted. He opened the door and walked out.

**_A/N: Maegel's was very short, but I promise you'll be seeing more of him soon. Things are getting going now, I'm getting used to the characters and imagining things in my mind to have in the story. Thank you to A Terrific Acorn and Lawrence Cartwright for all of your submissions to the story, they do help. This is the last chapter in which I'm going to offer people to submit characters. Maegel's Arryn crush is open, as well as the entire Tully family, some Starks, some Baratheons, and even a few more Lannisters would be okay. Thank you all! _**


	4. Chapter 2: All Sides

**_A Wilting Rose (SYOC)_**

_Chapter 2: All Sides_

_POV Princess Saera Targaryen_

The Red Keep had grown quiet in the past few years. No more would she hear the bickering between Viserys and Aegon that they had loathed, but she had enjoyed. No more would she hear the happy sounds of Queen Alisyn playing with her child in the hallways. No more would she hear Maegel's lofty voice singing throughout the palace. Even the servants seemed to be quieter, staying to the sides of the hallways rather than interacting with her.

As she sat in bed, she wondered where this would lead. Aegon and Viserys hated each other, and Viserys would do anything to remain King. Aegon wouldn't kill Maegel if he had a choice, but she couldn't say the same for Viserys. They would make the realm bleed to make themselves King.

"Princess Saera?" The voice came from outside the door. "Your brother calls you to the throne room."

She wondered what that could be for. She dressed simply in a sleek black gown that hugged her frame just enough. Her white-blonde hair drifted down her back in slow waves. A pendant was on her neck, one that had been a gift from her three brothers long ago.

She walked to the throne room at her own pace, taking the stairs slowly. Her eyes gazed upon the walls, wondering what had happened to the light that had once adorned them. Nearly half the torches were out and didn't look like they'd been lit in years. Her eyes lingered on a lady that stood at the edge of the room, but quickly diverted them when she saw Saera watching her.

The throne room was crowded, Saera could see that already. People were crowded at the door and at the edges of the room. She saw glimpses of people and managed to get them to let her through. She saw a fair-haired and rather large man standing to the side of where Viserys sat on the throne. Saera hadn't been aware that Lord Lannister had made it yet to be appointed, but here he was.

Her brother was staring at a piece of parchment he had in his hand, his violet eyes hard and looking around the room. "I demand a personal oath of loyalty from the following Lords and Ladies," He said, his voice louder as he spoke.

Now she sat it, dozens of ravens sat on the windows, waiting to fly with their messages. This was just for show, Saera realized.

"Lord Darrick Arryn. Lord Axel Tully. Lord Tristan Tully. Lord Torrhen Stark. Lord Victor Stark. Lady Lyarra Stark. Prince Aegon Targaryen. Prince Maegel Targaryen. Lady Alisyn Tyrell. Lord Ormund Tyrell. Lord Kardyn Tyrell. Lord Roland Baratheon. Lord Raymont Baratheon. Lord Cayde Baratheon. Prince Garin Martell. Percival Pyke. Lord Jeron Greyjoy." The names began to get longer and less noble in name. The following normally held true: Riverland, Vale, Northern, Reach, and Stormland lords were the majority, followed by the Dornish and Iron Islanders.

"I pledge fealty," A voice came from the back of the room.

Saera turned, surprised to hear someone say those words. Most on the list probably wouldn't. She craned her neck in an attempt to see who it was.

The man was dressed in pale orange and yellow attire, with dark black-grey hair that was slicked back his scalp. He had dark eyes and a cold look in his eye, staring straight ahead. He had a cane in his hand, but Saera doubted it was to help him walk. It could only be Prince Garin of House Martell.

Viserys quickly dismissed the people that were in the room watching, with the exceptions of Prince Garin, Lord Lannister, and Saera herself.

"You've come to take your place on the small council?" Viserys asked, obviously glad to see Prince Martell. Dorne would side with the crown if he was here, at least.

"I have," Prince Garin said neutrally, looking around the throne room as he walked. "I do have some conditions before I accept my place. A war is coming, and I must protect my people how I see fit."

"We will listen," Viserys replied, gesturing for Saera and Lord Lannister to follow them while they walked.

Just from what she'd heard, Saera realized that Viserys was vastly outclassed. Prince Martell was a shrewd man and knew just where to press or what to ask for. She knew he'd ask for the most he thought he could conceivably get. Lord Lannister was little help in negotiations either.

"For my service on the small council and the pledging of Dorne to the crown's cause, we ask that Prince Jaeherys be sent to Sunspear to be a ward of my son, Dagos'." Prince Garin began.

"Consider it done," Viserys replied coolly.

Saera knew he never cared much for the child, and she'd had to spend a few nights with him since Alisyn had left. He missed her more than he'd ever miss his father. Not that Saera could blame him either. Alisyn was a much nicer sight than Viserys, in her opinion.

"Princess Saera," Prince Garin turned to her and inclined his head. "Will be sent to Dorne to marry my son Dagos as well, cementing the ties between Dorne and the crown."

Saera sputtered, looking around nervously. "Prince Garin, I'm not sure that's the best idea," She said, urgently looking for a way out of it.

Years ago, she'd realized that when the other girls were talking about the handsome knights around the palace that they'd love to marry, that she didn't care about that. It just filled her with a vague sense of distaste. Not that she disliked them all, but just the thought of marrying them was too much. A year after that, she'd noticed the women at the castle, and realized she may not fall the same way as them. She'd never spoken about it since.

"You ask for a lot," Viserys spoke, obvious discomfort in his eyes.

"Our price is high," Prince Garin admitted. "But the reward is bigger. You stand here with only one region cemented under your control: the Westerlands. The Reach is positioned opposite of you, and the Vale and North look to fall as well. The Iron Islands are completely out of our control, and you need an ally. Dorne will gain you that alliance that you seek."

Viserys looked back at Saera for a moment. Her eyes pled with him to let her stay. There was no way she was going to enjoy being married to a Martell prince. She knew she'd like Dorne, but not her marriage.

His eyes argued with her as well. She knew that the crown needed it, that he needed it. Without Dorne, the pretty much surrendered the southern half of the country to a different prince or rebel. Finally, she sighed and nodded.

"Good," Prince Garin said crisply. "Then it is done. Princess Saera will bring Prince Jaeherys to Dorne to live in Sunspear with her as a ward."

She blinked once, twice. This was what he needed her to do, so she'd see it done. There was no other option for her, she knew that. Maybe she'd enjoy it more than she thought, and she'd even have the kid with her. Or maybe she wouldn't.

_POV Queen Alisyn Tyrell_

They'd been on the road for at least a week now, as they rode horses en route to Storm's End. She had knights surrounding her the entire way. She was used to it from her time as Queen, but now it seemed uncomfortable as the only one there. Her father led the soldiers at the front, and her brother Ormund beside him. The rest had remained at Highgarden.

The wind blew harder the closer they drew to Storm's End. Luckily, it didn't rain, but you could feel like a storm was in the air. The golden rose of the Tyrells led the vanguard, blazing in the wind. A sense of pride filled her chest as she followed on horseback.

Their plan was a risky one, and not entirely feasible. It was predicated on the belief that the Baratheons would either want Ormund and his daughter to marry, or Alisyn and his son. The problem was that Ormund was a risky bet, seeming as though he would lead the Reach into war, and Alisyn was 'damaged' to the rest of them because of her marriage with Viserys.

She knew that before long there'd be a crown on her head again, and the weight of the world with it. Though, she'd be joined by at least a couple more putting crowns on their own heads.

As she stared at the massive castle of Storm's End, she was reminded of the Red Keep. What did Viserys think of her now? Was Cerissa already Queen? What would the small council do without her there? Was Jaeherys safe?

Even now, the questions ate at her. She was confident Princess Saera would take care of her child, at least as best as she could. But he would become a bastard soon, at least in the eyes of the Faith. They'd annul her marriage, and if Cerissa and Viserys had another baby, he would be first in line.

They waited in the wind for an hour while her father rode up to the castle's doors to speak with them about entering. When she saw him beginning to ride back, she rode her horse past the knights defending her and towards where her father was.

"Lord Baratheon has permitted us entry," His voice boomed. "The main force will remain outside for the night, and provisions will be supplied." His voice got quieter and he looked at Ormund and Alisyn. "You two will come inside with me."

Alisyn rode her horse beside her father and brother, up to the castle wall. She gazed in wonder, realizing that Storm's End was likely better fortified than Highgarden. Maybe they should divert most of the force here, she thought.

The doors opened, and Lord Tyrell dismounted his horse. Alisyn and Ormund followed suit, following in a row behind their father. Servants offered to take their coats, but Alisyn declined. She tightened the fabric around her, thinking of it as a security blanket.

The inside of the castle was largely dark and gloomy, the dark stone hard to illuminate by the torches lit inside. She was surprised that her father seemed to know the way around the castle, leading them immediately to the room where they were due to meet the Baratheons.

She'd only ever really known one that well: Cayde Baratheon, who served on the small council in King's Landing. He used to be Lord of Storm's End but passed it to his son when he began to serve in King's Landing. Lord Baratheon was an intelligent man, but one that shouldn't be angered.

She had known the younger Baratheons in her childhood, particularly the heir, Roland. He had been a bright and warm child, one that you could depend on. In another world, they would've been married before she'd met Viserys. But that wasn't this one.

The doors opened, and a man spoke from the side of the room. The herald, she realized.

"I present Lord Kardyn of House Tyrell, and his son Lord Ormund of House Tyrell, in the company of Queen Alisyn of House Tyrell. Welcome to Storm's End," He said, ushering them inside.

For the three of them, there were also three Baratheons. Not Cayde, but his son, Raymont, the actual Lord of Storm's End. He had a fox-like face, and he was muscular too. But you would think he was older than his father. Age lines defined his face, and his hair and beard were now more grey than black. His eyes regarded them immediately upon entering the room.

To his right was his son, Lord Roland. He had shaggy black hair that drifted down his shoulders in waves. He was incredibly muscular and wore dark boiled leather. His face had lines near his mouth, as if his face were always smiling. He was slightly less tall than his father but stood as high as either of her family members.

On the other side was his daughter, Lady Jaylin. She had sleek black hair like her family members but was a fair bit shorter than the others. She had pale skin, and watchful blue eyes that seemed to gaze upon them all at once. She was a few years younger than Alisyn yet had vied for Viserys' attention as well. From her time in King's Landing, Alisyn knew that she was very intelligent.

"You bring war to our doorstep, Lord Kardyn," Lord Raymont began, striding over to meet them. "I want to know the meaning of this."

"King Viserys is a dreadful King, you know this," Her father said to him. "Horrible. He paid no attention to the afflictions of the Vale when they were going through troubles with the hill tribes. He sent no aid when Storm's End was battered by pirates. He allowed the Lannister woman to get in his bed."

"You argue like Prince Aegon," Lord Raymont said, leading them from the room and bidding them follow. "You seem to think I should back him instead?"

A meeting room adjoined the main hall of the Baratheons. Three chairs with the golden stag were sitting on one side, and three were on the other. They took their seats when Lord Raymont sat down.

"That's not at all what we're proposing," Her father said. "Prince Aegon is brittle and seems to think he'd do better than his brother at ruling. He's uncompromising and unkind. He would pay no attention to the…intricacies of the Realm. Prince Maegel has no love for being on the throne and would spend more time off on his own than actually ruling."

"So…" Lord Raymont looked puzzled. "You're asking us to do…what? Sit and do nothing? You know that we cannot do that."

"We're asking you to support someone with years of experience on the Iron Throne with a claim of someone untainted by the failures of the current siblings. Queen Alisyn as regent, supported by your House, with Prince Jaeherys the eventual claimant," Lord Kardyn told him.

Lord Raymont looked around the room and thought to himself for a moment. "You're asking me to commit treason." He said finally.

"Our region will burn if we have no allies," Lord Kardyn replied, folding his arms across his chest. "Viserys will come for us one way or another, no matter which King we support. Aegon would do nothing if it benefitted him to leave us, and Maegel would have no time to help."

"What do you offer me?" Lord Raymont asked. "We're old friends, but nothing is without a price."

"We offer you everything," Her brother Ormund chimed in. "Your pick. You may marry your daughter Jaylin to me, or your son to Alisyn. Baratheons will be in the direct line for the throne if we win."

The offer intrigued the lord, who stroked his beard and looked hard at the table. "I will accept a betrothal between Queen Alisyn and Lord Roland. I will need time to decide on Jaylin's fate. You will stay here two nights as we discuss the plans. After that, Roland will go with you to Highgarden as we prepare for war."

Alisyn let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was keeping in. As she looked at Roland, she saw him looking back at her. Something fluttered in her chest that made her think that maybe this time would be different.

**_A/N: I was going to add a third one, but I couldn't quite figure out which one of the two scenes I was deciding should go there, so I decided to hold them both back. Thank you all for your submissions, I am no longer taking MAJOR houses, but if you'd like to submit minor house characters, I will leave that open for as long as the story is open. Please let me know what you think of each chapter, the responses really do help when determining what I do. _**


	5. Chapter 3: Falling Pieces

**_A Wilting Rose (SYOC)_**

_Chapter 3: Falling Pieces_

_POV Lord Tristan Tully_

_Casterly Rock_

The sun was shining over the hill, making it have an illuminated look about the keep. The redness seemed to glow in the afternoon light, creating a haunting impression. Behind him laid soldiers in neat columns, nearly a thousand Riverland soldiers, headed by himself, Lord Mallister, and Ser Bracken. If he would've known a few years ago he would lead an armed host to Casterly Rock, he would've assumed a war was going on.

But no, instead he had been summoned by the acting Lord of Casterly Rock, Desmond Lannister. He had been surprised by the invitation, given how the last one had gone.

His heart ached still as he remembered how Lord Lyman had laughed when Tristan had asked for Cerissa's hand in marriage. He'd loved her, and still did. His own father had been irate. Maybe his son was decidedly more intelligent than his father.

Lannister knights rode out to meet them. "The whole army cannot fit," One of them said.

"Then we will go," Lord Tully gestured to Lord Mallister and Ser Bracken to follow him. About a dozen of their soldiers followed suit as their security attaché.

The doors to the keep opened as they got closer to Casterly Rock. Tristan was surprised, remembering the last time he'd been here. He'd asked for his sister's hand in marriage, Lady Cerissa, and Lord Lyman had laughed and shouted insults at the rivermen as they exited the hall. Anyone could imagine that his son would be wiser than that, but it would need to be a pretty good deal to get Riverrun to the table again.

The sun shone through the windows of Casterly Rock, making the red rock look as though it were hot coals. He glided behind his guards, his eyes watching their surroundings for any sign of trouble.

"Welcome to Casterly Rock," A warm voice greeted him from ahead. At the head of a table was Lord Desmond Lannister, a muscular, golden-haired man, who watched him.

"It's certainly more of a welcome than I received last time," Tristan said gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest.

If it surprised Lord Desmond, he didn't show it. Instead, he simply walked around the table to touch the wooden tabletop. "And for that I am truly sorry. My father can be brash sometimes, especially when it comes to his children. But that is in the past now, for good or ill."

"Ill," Tristan replied, putting his hands flatly on the table and looking at the Lannister. "What am I here to discuss?"

Lannister's green-gold eyes regarded him carefully. "It isn't a secret to say that Riverrun and Casterly Rock will likely end up on opposite sides of the oncoming war."

"It isn't?" Tristan asked, having thought his father had been rather careful with that information, and was even more surprised that the Lannisters would know. If they knew, it's likely others knew too.

"No," Desmond Lannister said, adorning crimson garb. "I come here offering peace, in the event of war. A ceasefire between the Riverlands and Westerlands. Even if our various Kings are at war with each other, Lannister and Tully soldiers will not invade either's land. That would not extend to any allies, you would be able to invade the Crownlands and us the Vale, and other associated allies."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, watching him. "A fair bit smarter than the lord father as well. Why should we accept this deal? Our side considerably outmatches yours, and the Westerlands would essentially have to stand alone. Everyone knows that Storm's End marches for Highgarden now."

He knew the precarious position of the Lannisters. Desmond may not want to be with Viserys, but he had no choice. Cerissa and Lyman had put him in that position.

"I offer the hand of my sister to you," Desmond said flatly. "The Tully and Lannister genes are particularly good, and together it should bring you many heirs."

Cerissa? Tristan thought, longing entering his mind. For years in his youth, he'd imagined marrying the Lady of Casterly Rock. Her beautiful, golden hair entranced him as much as her pearly smile. He'd given up on that since the last visit. "Cerissa?" He voiced his thoughts.

"I don't control Cerissa," Desmond said flippantly as he strode to the side of the room. "I don't talk about Cerissa. May I introduce my sister, Lady Celyne of House Lannister?"

The door from the left side of the room opened, and a wispy figure stepped out, presumably Celyne Lannister. Her light blue eyes clashed with the normal Lannister genes, looking more like ice than the normal green. She had pale blonde hair, much different than the luscious gold of her sister. She was beautiful, to be sure, but didn't measure up to Cerissa in his mind.

"Lord Tully," Her voice came out as a raspy whisper, standing next to her brother.

"Lady Lannister," Tristan replied gracefully. He had hardly remembered that Cerissa had a sister, never seeing her even when he went to the Rock. She never went to King's Landing or Riverrun, the other two places he'd even have a chance of seeing her.

"I'll give you two time to talk, and you can send a raven with your answer," Desmond said, striding out of the room, leaving Tristan, his guards, and Celyne.

Tristan waved his hand to dismiss his guards and took a seat at the table. "You're very beautiful, Lady Lannister."

"Not as beautiful as my sister," She replied coldly, sitting down in a chair across from him. "Not in your eyes, I'm sure. I remember how you looked at her."

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that she was Cerissa. Once she opened her mouth, he knew it wasn't. "I loved her," He said truthfully, running a hand through his auburn hair.

"Then you made a mistake," Celyne replied, tapping her fingertips on the wood of the table. "You should be glad she crawled into bed with King Viserys rather than you. You got lucky."

Tristan felt as though he'd been slapped, visually recoiling and looking at her with disdain. "You speak of your own sister like that?"

Celyne chuckled bitterly, throwing back her light hair. "Your House's words are Family, Duty, Honor. My beloved sister never had much use of family, not at least the one she was born to. When I was fourteen, she'd claimed that I'd given my maidenhead to a stable boy. It took me four years to convince my father otherwise. Duty? What sort of duty do you think she had to Queen Alisyn when she slept with her husband? What honor do you think she has left now? She'd be a poor fit for your house."

Tristan frowned, pushing his chair back. "And you think you'd be better?"

Celyne simply looked up at him. "I don't know Lord Tully, but I know that you would've regretted every day of your life if you had wound up with my sister as your wife."

Tristan pushed his chair in once he'd gotten to his feet. "Good day, Lady Celyne," He turned to go, grabbing the door's handle.

She didn't protest, staying seated the whole time, letting him go. He strode out of the keep and back to his soldiers, wondering if what she'd said had any weight on his mind or not.

_POV Lady Cerissa Lannister_

_King's Landing_

Her head spun as she stood in the dark red dress. Soon she would be crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, just as they began to shatter. She'd begun to understand the frustrations of Queen Alisyn the longer she played the role of Queen (or the equivalent of what she was) while Alisyn was gone.

Viserys rarely attended the small council meetings, and Cerissa often stood in his stead. With the Reachmen gone, the rest rarely uttered a protest. In fact, she'd begun to see that they preferred her there than Viserys.

She loved him, she'd convinced herself. Truly, she did. Cerissa knew that she did, in her heart, and believed that he loved her back. She'd be more careful than Alisyn had been, she wouldn't let anyone near Viserys.

"Lady Cerissa?" A voice came from behind her.

"Yes?" She whipped around, nearly sending her to the ground with her dizziness affecting her actions. "What is it?" She put her hand on her temple.

It was a young ward, likely of Prince Garin's. "The small council is meeting and King Viserys asks you to attend while he trains with the soldiers outside."

"Y-yes," Cerissa said, discretely wiping sweat off her brow that she hadn't realized had accumulated there. "I shall attend at once." She set out, walking slowly towards the small council meeting room.

Lord Baratheon and her father were both absent, with Lord Velaryon presiding over the meeting while she hadn't been there.

"Ah!" Velaryon chirped as she entered the room. "Lady Lannister, a welcome sight," He bowed and kissed her hand. "We have a few proposals and some thoughts to share with you."

"Let me hear them," Cerissa replied as she sat in the chair normally reserved for the Hand.

Helaena Waters gave her a grin from the end of the table. "I've learned that Storm's End intends to declare support for Queen Alisyn in Highgarden. That brings the might of the South into the hands of the Tyrells."

Cerissa couldn't help but gasp, her heart plummeting. The Tyrells alone could muster enough support to make the battle interesting, but with the Baratheons too, they could make a dent in the rest of the kingdom, perhaps win it. "What else?"

"Word from the Iron Islands is mixed," Helaena said, stretching back in her seat. "Civil war seems to be the most likely. Percival Pyke, acting ruler of the Iron Islands, seems to be aligning with Maegel. The exiled Greyjoys are intending to fight back, and it seems Prince Aegon may be supplying them."

"And who can we back?" Cerissa asked, assuming that's where it was going.

Helaena chuckled. "Always an impatient one, the Lady Lannister. A young ironborn seems to be in Essos. A bastard of Lord Greyjoy, but he has a large fleet. If he is legitimized by the King, we could gain a foothold in the Iron Islands."

"Do it," Cerissa said. "I'll speak to Viserys on the matter, it should be no issue."

"Maegel appears to be assembling a large force in the center of the country," Helaena gathered a map and spread it on the table. "He has support from the Eyrie, Riverrun, and Pyke."

"He's nothing compared to his elder brother," Prince Garin interrupted, leaning forward in his seat. "Prince Aegon is the real threat, whether or not he controls more land is beside the point. An army of Volantene soldiers will march for him, as well as Winterfell and the might of Dragonstone."

"That's nothing to say of Queen Alisyn," Lord Velaryon said. "She commands nearly one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers, dwarfing our own size."

Cerissa bit her lip. They had the support of the Westerlands, Crownlands and Dorne. Not exactly unified. "What about rebels? Anyone we can attempt to peel off?"

"We do have one option," Lord Velaryon said slowly. "It's a bit unorthodox, but it could work."

"Let's hear it," Cerissa said immediately.

"Lord Baratheon is known to be fond of his father. Cayde Baratheon is here in King's Landing, normally serving on the small council. He was unable to be here today, but if we keep him as a hostage here, it may be enough to sway his son." Lord Velaryon explained to her. "We could split the Stormlands down the middle."

"Do it," She said immediately.

_POV Lady Lyarra Stark_

_Winterfell_

"I take this man," Her words echoed through the silent garden, the hulking godswood laid out in front of her.

Lyarra's cold hand met Aegon's, and they knelt in front of the tree.

_Please, _she prayed, _whoever's out there. Save our House, our family, our region. Please make this war short and swift._

It wasn't long before her and Aegon were rising back to their feet. She felt his nimble fingers deftly undo the grey cloak that was wrapped around her shoulders. Before long, another cloak was replacing it, with the dark blackness and the scarlet dragon of the Targaryens. Despite his own religious preferences lying with the Faith, he'd agreed to a Northern wedding at her bidding.

His arms swept her feet out from underneath her, and soon her head was resting on his chest. The party-goers followed them back into Winterfell's castle, the servants already busily making the mead and food be set out upon the tables.

"Congratulations," She'd heard it a thousand times from various lords and their sons, daughters, wives. Lyarra had tried counting them at the beginning out of curiosity, but quickly lost the count. It seemed half the North had come to see her wedding day.

Torrhen sat at the head of the room, and Lyarra and Aegon were to his left. Torrhen's own wife was at his right. Lords came up to greet them and pledge their loyalty to Prince Aegon in the vent of war. No matter how much she'd asked, he'd refused to proclaim himself King in Winterfell. _"It has to be done in Dragonstone," _He'd told her time and time again. She saw nothing of value in that rock of an island.

Lyarra smiled when ladies she'd known in her childhood came up to congratulate her. Lady Mormont, Lady Manderly, Lady Cerwyn had all been close to her in her youth. Could Queens have friends? She hadn't thought of it before, but she figured not. She had to maintain impartiality in case she did become Queen.

As she sat in the chair, she remembered what her father had always told her: _you will be a Queen one day. _She'd never believed him. Unlike the other ladies of Westeros, she had never tramped down to King's Landing to get Viserys to love her. She didn't care for palace life anyway.

Aegon's hand was warm, and she found herself reaching for it more often than she would've liked to admit. She found herself surprisingly pleased when his lips gave her a ghost of a kiss on the cheek.

The last two to come up and give their congratulations were two guests of Aegon's, and Lyarra hadn't the faintest idea who they were. One was the tan woman from before, and the other was a pale-faced man, looking like complete opposites.

"Congratulations," Her voice was stiff as she looked at Lyarra.

"Thank you," Lyarra replied kindly. "Beg my pardon, but what are your names? I've never met either of you."

"I am Lord Bar Emmon of Sharp Point," The man said, inclining his head. "Sworn to Dragonstone, we are. Chief advisor to Prince Aegon for all his years on that island. This here is Kinvara, from Volantis. Her family promises ships for Aegon's conquest of the continent."

Lyarra shifted uncomfortably under the woman's look. She'd thought that the army would be Westerosi in nature. The people of the south wouldn't take to kindly to knowing that their King would be influenced primarily by Northerners and Volantenes.

"It's an honor to meet you," Lyarra smiled and let them go on to talk to Aegon. Kinvara didn't speak to him, and simply turned and walked to her seat. Bar Emmon continued to prattle on about how things were in the south, and Lyarra didn't care to listen.

Her eyes drifted from Aegon to those feasting. How could she ask those men and women out there to die for a cause that may be lost from the beginning? They commanded negligible support compared to the rest of the Kings and Queens who had declared themselves, not to mention that the Volantenes wouldn't listen to orders given from a Northern leader.

She saw Lord Manderly, his wife, and their kids laughing at a table. What if Viserys loosed his navy against White Harbor and burned the city? Lyarra saw Lady Mormont and her kids messing with the food at the table. What if the ironborn attacked the islands that had once been theirs? She saw Lord Flint and his two daughters eating quietly by themselves. What if the Lannisters seized that part of the North to make themselves have a foothold there?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It would work out, she thought. Eventually. Not many others came to speak to her after the congratulations, just some Northerners who were offering themselves to protect her once the war began. She appreciated it but was sure she'd be staying in Winterfell after Aegon crowned himself in Dragonstone. Wars weren't for women anyway.

The feasting died down, and most of the lords and their families began to trickle out. Her heart thudded in her chest as Aegon stood, grabbed her hand, and led her from the hall.

**_A/N: A bit of a short one to end it, but I wanted to get something out there today. I am writing my own ASOIAF story (it will be a side project, more for if I've written this in a day and want to keep writing), about Aegon's Conquest with a new cast (a bit of a twist so I can work with characters I want to work with), but I don't know when it will be up. Thank you all for your kind words and the true story should begin shortly!_**


	6. Chapter 4: The War

**_A Wilting Rose (SYOC)_**

_A/N: Before I begin, I'd like to apologize for a long break. I have been extremely busy with school and life, but the biggest thing is I got kind of stuck. So, I decided to search for ways to become unstuck. The one I settled on was a brief, 2-4 week push further into the story. So, things may have happened that aren't in the story from the last chapter. The important things will be referenced, but I felt this was the best way to continue forward without a longer break. Thank you for your patience._

_Chapter 4: The War_

_POV Princess Saera Targaryen_

The sun was shining, and her hair glistened in it. The Dornish climate hadn't been the friendliest to her pale skin, leaving her often pink and sunburned, left inside to her own devices. She was lucky that the young Jaeherys had taken a liking to some of the Dornish that surrounded him on lessons and protecting him, leaving her some coveted relaxing time.

That time was few and far between, however. Even now, she rested on a bench near the Water Gardens, watching as Jaeherys sprinted down rows of flowers with the young Martell boy.

She chuckled fondly, knowing that the Dornish boy was a few years older than Jaeherys, but anyone would spend extra time to make a prince their friend. Still, the sight was heartwarming. Unbeknownst to the others, she'd begun to think of the young Jaeherys as a son she'd never had. Now-Queen Cerissa wouldn't have accepted Jaeherys to stay at King's Landing, and Dorne was a safe place, out of the way.

"Princess Saera," One of the handmaidens said as they walked to her. "The Prince calls upon you inside."

Saera nodded right away, getting to her feet and following the handmaiden. While she walked, she had time to think. It had been a while since she had thought of home. What were her siblings doing now? Would they plan on trying to kill each other in this war? She found out that her free time to think wasn't necessarily a benefit to her.

Indoors, Prince Dagos Martell was standing beside a chair. He was handsome, in a way. Certainly, a bit older than the average suitor in Westeros. He had jet black hair, with a healthy beard that was trimmed nice enough to not look too awkward for a prince. He just wasn't what she wanted.

"Princess Saera," His voice was a deep, nearly honey-like sound as he looked at her. "I hope you are enjoying Sunspear?"  
"I am, Prince Dagos," Saera assured him. It was true, Dorne was a fair enough place to live. "It is perfect."

He offered his arm to her and she took it. He was dressed in an orange vest with a lighter colored shirt on underneath, and had on a pair of loose, darker pants. The look would've seemed strange anywhere else, but in Dorne, it was normal.

"How do you like the people here, princess? They are much different than in King's Landing," Dagos said as they walked about the palace, sometimes stopping to look at different artifacts or paintings that lined the walls.

"They're different," Saera admitted. They were all so open, willing to do and say whatever they wanted. She admired that, and knew that would be something she would begin to like.

"Well, yes," Dagos chuckled. "I'm sure. There are people everywhere here that are different. I like to call Dorne a haven. It's a haven for anyone that's different in Westeros that doesn't want to leave for Essos. It's the only place that is truly honest."

"How so?" Saera asked.

Dagos looked at a painting that depicted the First Dornish War. It had been a triumph for the Dornish, and had been a symbol of their defiance of the crown. "You can do anything here in Dorne. We don't look down upon our bastards, we don't look down on people that would love one, two, or three people, or those that would love someone that shares their parts." Dagos explained.

Saera tried to keep the blush from rising up her dainty features. She felt her cheeks grow hot and knew she had failed. Damn, she thought.

"Anything to say to that?" Dagos turned to her, seeing the blush.

"And…you?" She asked quietly. "Where do you stand?"

"I am Dornish," He spread his arms, pointing out different things. "I am just as much Dornish as that sand there, and the water gardens outside. I have taken many lovers through my years in Dorne, and no offense my princess, but I know I will take more through my lifetime. That's how it is here."

She knew she should be angry, but something in her felt like…relief. "Okay." She said softly.

"We are betrothed," Dagos said, as if reminding her. "But we can be allies too. We don't have to simply skirt around the other because it may not be what we want. We can use this to help ourselves."

Saera smiled as she followed him outside, seeing Jaeherys resting on a bench. "Auntie!" He squealed as he ran over and hugged her, no longer afraid of the Martell as he used to be.

She lifted the little kid up in her arms, surveying the surroundings. The luscious green against the tan of the sand was beautiful, watching as water trickled down the stones. She took a deep breath and held him to her.

"Prince Martell!" A herald ran from the palace, holding a letter. "A letter from the King!"

"Which one?" Dagos said dryly as he opened the letter. Saera watched curiously, the prince's expression unreadable. Nothing changed even when he was done with the letter.

"What does it say?" Saera asked, staring at the prince.

"Lord Raymont Baratheon has switched sides. He has attached Storm's End to the crown. Half of the Stormlands has followed suit, and will aid King Viserys in his war," Prince Dagos said as he handed the letter over to her.

Saera only skimmed through it. "But…why?" Saera asked. "His son is to be wed to Queen Alisyn in Highgarden, how…?"

"His father is in King's Landing, do not forget," He said. "He may be doing what he can to save him."

"That may be," Saera said quietly. She wouldn't put it past either Viserys or Aegon to do something like that. But it had altered the course of the war. The might of Storm's End was no longer attached to Highgarden. That alone might persuade the Dornish into action. Maybe, but maybe not. She would be the first to know.

_POV Prince Maegel Targaryen_

He could remember it. He could remember it all. The day still haunted him in his dreams, and he knew he could still face much worse in the days ahead. The feel of cold steel pressed against his neck, several swords aimed at him. All he had to defend himself was his words and a few lightly defended soldiers that were loyal to him.

His washing ashore at Gulltown hadn't been nearly as successful as he'd thought. Turns out the younger Lord Arryn had found more common cause with Aegon than with him, and threatened to turn him over to his brother. Luckily, Maegel had been able to talk himself out of it, demanding to see the current Lord.

Unfortunately, Lord Arryn was not in a great state at the moment, so he bypassed the Eyrie and went en route to Riverrun instead. He only had a small party at his back, a few from Arryn's house guard, and a few from his descent near Maidenpool. They'd barely been able to skirt past Viserys' forces in the Crownlands.

As they saw the moat from a way out, Maegel broke into a smile. He had missed Westeros, and he had missed being present for these kinds of circumstances. He'd always liked the riverlords and was hopeful that the feeling was mutual.

The leaping trout above the river was seen flying from the flag staffs the Tullys had set up. People bustled in and out of the castle, the draw bridge currently lowered. When they were within range, he could hear sounds of happy laughter and joyful talking. The closer and closer they got, the sounds began to die. Soldiers simply stared as they slowly marched closer to the castle.

"Alert Lord Tully!" Maegel assumed it was the master of arms of Riverrun.

A few of the soldiers asked them to keep their swords and weapons at the head of the keep. Maegel didn't protest, being the first to set it aside. The ambiance inside the castle was the same as outside, torches lining the walls to provide light down every hallway within sight. Two men walked towards them from one of the passageways.

"Prince Targaryen," The taller, red haired man said.

"Lord Axel Tully," Maegel reached out for a handshake, and the other one squeezed his hand.

"Come with us, and welcome to Riverrun," The man's blue eyes twinkled as he led him down the hallway.

Maegel grinned and followed them down the hall. At the end of it was a door, and inside was a simple table with a few chairs sitting around it. Sitting in one was…the Queen?

"Cerissa?" He gasped, looking at the Tullys. "What? Why?"

"Not Cerissa," The lady said, and he could tell now. Her face had a scar down one side of it, carving the beauty nearly in two. "Celyne."

"Soon to be Celyne Tully," Tristan japed, with little humor in his voice. Maegel simply nodded quietly.

"Lannister," Celyne replied pointedly.

"Hm?" Tristan replied as the rest of them began to take their seats.

"Celyne Lannister," She replied stiffly, sitting in her oaken chair.

Maegel let out a little tut of laughter. Tullys and Lannisters weren't well suited, he thought. Well, maybe they'd make it work. He doubted it.

"I assume you're here to ask our support," Axel Tully said, sitting on the chair at the head of the table.

"I am," Maegel confirmed, looking at them. "As King of the Riverlands, Vale, and Iron Islands."

Axel sat up a little taller, not having realized that Riverlands would be named first. "We intend to confirm this support, but we must know where to go and how to strategize for the war that is certainly coming towards us."

"I have concerns," Lady Lannister folded her hands on the table. "You have no blood right, you lack a powerful army, and lack a claim. You are the third son, even if you argue Viserys is not the best King, Aegon is next in line. If not him, then it is Viserys' son Jaeherys. The Riverlands and Vale can offer you much, but the Iron Islands is in civil war. That's not the only problem."

"Then what are the others?" Maegel asked politely, trying to ignore the rising annoyment in his chest.

"Well, we've all heard the story by now," Celyne looked straight at him. "The young Lord Arryn doesn't favor you as King and attempted to apprehend you at Gulltown with the aid of House Royce. If Lord Arryn dies, you will no longer command the support of the Vale. In fact, right now, you only command a half of it."

The two Tullys were unconcerned, simply shrugging in response. "We will evolve our strategy as time goes. The Riverlands will not offer our support to Viserys and his bed of Lannisters. Nor will we offer it to the brittle Prince Aegon."

"Then you have an option with Queen Alisyn of Highgarden," Celyne replied coolly. "If you truly believed that."

"And allow House Tyrell to control King's Landing unopposed?" Axel Tully shot back. "Unlikely."

Maegel felt uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. He looked at the Tullys for help. To his fortune, Lord Tully stood up. "I will have no more besmirching of the King that the Riverlands have chosen. Bring forth the crown."

Maegel felt his heart begin to beat faster. He saw a squire carrying a sapphire crown with rubies inlaid in the top, the fashioning of which was created by House Tully.

"I proclaim you, King Maegel of the House Targaryen," Axel Tully said as he lifted the crown off the pillow it rested on. "King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Protector of the Seven Kingdoms and all of Westeros. Rule wisely and you may flourish." Maegel felt the man lower the crown on top of his head. He began to smile, feeling the weight upon his head. It began now.

_POV Lady Lyarra Stark_

The ride to White Harbor was quiet, and hardly a person spoke, and when they did, it certainly wasn't to her. Aegon rode at the head of their company, some of his Crownland soldiers beside him, and they had a few ranks before she rode with her Northerners. Snow was beginning to fall around them, a light snow, unlike many in this part of the world.

Lady Stark pulled her jacket around her tighter, the grey fabric warming her cheeks. Lyarra loved White Harbor and had been there many times as a child. She enjoyed the hospitality of the Manderlys, and the churning waters that it settled by. They would not stop to dine and chat with the Lord of White Harbor, they would go to the docks and see the ships that would bring them south.

They were big ships, all named differently. The biggest one, _Aegon, _had been whisked up from Dragonstone. It was flanked by two smaller ones, _Volantene Beauty _and _Driftmark. _In total, there were nearly eleven ships solely to bring them to Dragonstone. Lyarra and her northerners were shepherded onto _Volantene _while Aegon and some of his boarded _Aegon. _The rest made their way to the other ships.

Lyarra stood at the helm of the ship, her elbows on the wood beneath her. She gazed out upon the grey-blue water that churned ahead of them, feeling the ship begin to move.

"It's nice, isn't it?" A foreign-sounding voice said.

Lyarra looked over at the Volantene girl that had been with Aegon once he'd arrived in Winterfell. Kinvara, her name was. She was beautiful, like any Dornish girl Lyarra had seen. Tan skin, dark hair, dark eyes. She even stood a bit taller than Lyarra.

"It's unsettling," Lyarra answered as she turned away. "You could fall overboard, and no one would notice." She shivered at the thought of even touching her toes into the icy water beneath them.

"Come drink with me," Kinvara said, not as a question, but a command. Lyarra felt she had no choice but to follow her beneath the deck.

Lyarra didn't know exactly what she'd been expecting, maybe some wooden floors, crudely designed rooms that were so small you couldn't even lie down properly or even a wash room or two. Instead, there was carpet laid upon the ground, with rugs decorated in the colors of House Targaryen. A single room was to her left, and Kinvara led her to it. It was nicely sized, with sturdy wooden chairs sitting around a table. A small firepit was carved in the edge, somehow staying lit without lighting the whole ship on fire.

"You're from Volantis?" Lyarra asked politely as she took a seat in one of the chairs.

"Yes," Kinvara answered as she took her own seat opposite Lyarra.

Lyarra stared at her. "You were Aegon's lover, weren't you?" She felt no reason to beat around the bush – it was true, she already knew it. But if she could get it out of the way, then maybe she could actually have a useful conversation with the woman.

"Yes," Kinvara answered again, with an edge in her voice. "I am Aegon's lover," She said pointedly.

Lyarra sighed and ran a hand through her own dark hair. "I don't know what you want from me, but I can't do anything but assure you that I will do my best to govern at his side."

The woman's eyes snapped to her. "I want you to throw away your crown and your marriage to him before things get out of hand."

Lyarra was surprised, staggering to her feet. "I-I…" Even for a Northern woman, she was at a loss for words. "Excuse me." She hurried back to the deck.

She spent the rest of the trip above deck, talking with some of her fellow Northerners on the boat. She tried to forget the Volantene's words, but they just kept eating at her. Eventually, the island of Dragonstone could be seen from a distance, a rocky place with little to no light in the darkness of night. Torches flickered from a distance, but they frequently disappeared in the dark.

**_A/N: I am going to be prioritizing the characters of those that review/I need to use more than those that are submitted and don't review (or PM). It simply makes it more enjoyable for me and you as a reader. I am glad to be back._**


	7. Chapter 5: The Prophecy

Chapter 5: The Prophecy

_Dragonstone_

The sun was shining, but that didn't stop those on Dragonstone from feeling the first onslaught of winter's chill. The cold seas' wind blew straight through the tiny island, creating shivers for anyone that was on land. Ships in the harbor tilted and rocked unsettlingly. Over the past few months, more and more had begun to dock in Dragonstone. The day before, the fleet had arrived.

Huge, hulking ships, with hulls made of the finest wood of Essos, and brightly colored sails that lit the entire ocean with its regality. The strongest, fastest Volantene ships that could have been provided were sitting in harbor at Dragonstone. Now, they simply waited for the word of their King.

Atop the balcony of one of the bedrooms stood a small woman with brown hair and grey eyes. Her stomach was becoming larger, a baby growing inside of her quickly. Lyarra Stark had begun to joke that she thought her child would live to be as big as her brother Torrhen. That morning, however, there were no jokes, as something was weighing on her mind.

"Winter is coming," Lyarra told her attendants that came to aid her that morning. "Fast and hard. The Wall must be freezing this very moment."

The Rosby-born maids simply frowned at this, leading her in to get fitted for her morning's dress. Their jobs had been made much harder with the lady's pregnancy. Their fingers worked tensely, their eyes downcast and not looking up at the Princess of Dragonstone. They were trying to avoid her eye contact, that much was for sure.

"Elyanna, Ariss, is there something wrong?" Her voice cut through the tension like a hot knife through cheese, the girls immediately panicking and beginning to talk over each other.

"I-I didn't know if I was supposed to tell you -" Elyanna broke in.

Ariss was already near tears, begging Lyarra for forgiveness. "Please-"

"Enough, enough," Lyarra snapped, her cold grey eyes looking over the two of them. "What is it? Elyanna, speak."

The girl, who was slightly more composed than her counterpart, began to chatter on. "There's a rumor, and we were told not to tell anyone, especially not you because of the pregnancy and all that, but the Triarch of Volantis has arrived here with his ships and is meeting King Aegon right now in the Room of the Painted Table. They say he's trying to get him to marry the Volantene as well." Her eyes went immediately to Lyarra's shoes.

"A rumor?" Lyarra snorted as she carefully pulled the grey dress up and on. "Seems like quite the truth to me."

So, with that, the two meek attendants watched as the heavily pregnant Lyarra Stark made her way towards the stairs that would bring her to the chamber where the Triarch was rumored to be. It must have been quite a sight for the old maester and his understudies, who saw the girl inching her way up the stairs. Her chin was jutted out, her eyes smoldering with a look that could only be described as sheer determination.

"Need any help, miss?" He offered her.

"Not at all," Lyarra replied brazenly as she continued her ascent.

The door slammed open as Lyarra shoved it, not having much strength other than the weight she carried. Her attendants had told her true. Only four stood inside, Aegon, in his purple suit that he had gotten years ago, Kinvara, who was sitting beside a man that was greying and strong. Presumably the Triarch of Volantis. The fourth person, a woman with bright blonde hair and brown eyes, she didn't recognize.

"What a shock," The woman grinned lightly, putting her feet up on the map. "The Queen arrives."

"Quiet, Helaena." Aegon snapped at her crisply. The woman raised her arms up in mock surrender, just grinning widely at Lyarra.

"Is this the girl?" The Triarch asked Aegon, folding his big arms over his chest.

"It is," Aegon replied with an edge in his voice.

"Ah. Then it's good she's here while I say this," He said. "I am here for a week, then departing for a journey to Pentos and Braavos. It should take about two months. Upon my return, you should either have already set aside this girl and married mine, or you have taken my daughter also as wife and bedded her."

Lyarra was stunned, but Aegon was not. "I will have made my decision by then," He said curtly.

"Good," The Triarch got to his feet and walked with his daughter out of the room.

"Aegon," Lyarra whispered in a quiet plea. He simply held up his hand to silence her.

She sat down heavily into a chair that was emptied by the Triarch. She rubbed her temples as she thought what was happening to her. Years ago, she hadn't thought she'd marry a King. She would be happily married to a Northern lord, a Karstark, Umber, or Glover, and she would go on with her life. The thought of Winterfell made her heart ache.

"This goes deeper than just love," Helaena said lightly. "I have heard of a prophecy given by an old woman in Oldtown. My spies tell me that it went something like this:

_Four Queens with swollen bellies conceived in the night_

_Only three shall see the light_

_Only one Queen shall reign over the summer_

_Only one babe shall be winter's king."_

The room was silent for a moment before Aegon snorted. "A prophecy? From an old woman in Oldtown? I doubt that it carries much significance. Don't give me stories of false prophets and soothsayers, I know that you still hold court in King's Landing."

Helaena tutted out a disapproving chuckle. "Don't you know, dear brother, that I can play multiple sides while not lying to you?"

"Who are they?" Lyarra asked softly, putting her arms over her baby.

"Now that's interesting," Helaena replied with a grin. "I personally believe one to be you, Lyarra. Another is Cerissa Lannister, who already is near giving birth to Viserys' child. Alisyn Tyrell is rumored to be pregnant with Lord Baratheon's child. Who the fourth is, or if these are even the true ones, are unknown."

"Who could they be?" Lyarra whispered more to herself than to anyone in the room.

"Well, that's where I think that Aegon could save himself." She touched her half-brother's arm. "Two Queens. Kinvara being the second would guarantee you a wife that survives and makes you a son. No offense, dear," She said to Lyarra. "But in self-interest, I believe it is a wise course of action."

The last thing they could see is the back of Lyarra Stark exiting the room. Helaena Waters just smiled and tapped her fingers on the table.

. . .

_The Twins (around the same time)_

The winds blew hard that morning, sending banners of grey and blue flying off the masts of flag poles, the Rivermen watching the other side of the river. Two armies pooled on either side. On the southern front, blue-clothed Tullys and Rivermen glittered with their steel, with banners of the Tully trout flying everywhere. Atop the massive bridge were the Freys, all with brown hair and stern faces. Only one was a red-haired Tully, the young lord Tristan surveying the northern side. The white direwolf mixed with the Targaryen dragon, thousands of northerners assembled on that side.

"Prepare to fire," Tristan walked alongside his bannermen, turning his attention to the southern side. There his father led an army of rivermen. He could see Axel Tully even from this distance, riding his great destrier with his red hair blazing in the wind.

The howling wind was all that he could hear for a bit, before horns began to blaze from the northern side. A roar went up from the assembled army, and the assault on the Twins began. At first, the northerners were easily outgunned, with the Freys launching arrows from above and the rivermen able to keep them from getting control of the bridges.

Tristan himself nocked arrows and fired at some of those that he deemed dangerous, those he had seen taking out many of their own. The normally dark-colored river was now a crimson as bodies washed into it. He surveyed the armies that were crashing together, knowing that just short of a half century ago they had been fighting as allies. But war was war.

No one was winning, Tristan knew that. If anyone was, it was them. Any attack on the Twins would be difficult without controlling the southern side, and would be infinitely more so with the help of the Tullys.

He heard something that caught his attention. Tristan began to dash towards the main tower, seeing that the drawbridges were beginning to lower. He wondered if spies had climbed the tower somehow, and lowered it to help the besieging northern troops.

"Seven hells," Tristan cursed as he raced up the stairs towards the top of the tower. He saw no bodies as he made the ascent. He was confused when he reached the top, seeing only a room full of Freys.

"Seize him," One of the commanders nodded at Tristan. Suddenly, it was clear.

He unsheathed his sword and buried it into the gut of the nearest soldier, slicing at another when they tried to come close. He groaned in pain when one approached him from behind and began to choke him, his throat feeling squeezed as he was lifted off his feet, his feet kicking at the man that was holding him. A second man approached and knocked his sword from his hand, burying the steel into the wooden floor.

Tristan cried out as they pushed him to the ground, grabbing rope to bind his hands and feet with. He kicked and struggled, receiving blow after blow to the face and chest. It went on like that for nearly a quarter of an hour, five Freys trying to bind the squirming trout. At last, they managed to get his hands bound and it took less to get his feet bound.

"Why?" He managed to get out, his lip burst and bleeding, cuts ranging all over on his face, both of his eyes blackened and hurt.

"The North offered a better deal," One simply grinned as he spoke. "Now watch." They hauled him up and made him watch as the waves of northerners descended over the bridge, scattering the Tully force down the middle. He couldn't see his father anymore, as one half of the Tully army was retreating quickly towards the south. Triumphant horns blew and he knew that the riverlands were about to feel the brunt of the war once again.

"Take him to the hall," One of the men ordered, and a few skinny soldiers nodded quickly and began to take him down the stairs again. They let him go and he began to tumble down the stairs, pain springing into his jaw, cheeks and side as the stairs gutted him no matter where he fell. Once he hit the oaken door on the bottom, his chin was burst open and bleeding as well.

The cries of the rivermen and northerners were fading as they chased them down the Trident, leaving the silence that had accompanied it before. He was hoisted towards the Great Hall of the Twins, where Lord Frey sat with a man at his side. He had a bun of brown hair, with a great shaggy beard and a strong-looking body. He was just a few inches shorter than Tristan himself.

"Stark," Tristan managed to get out.

"Not the eldest," A tone of humor was in his voice. "Just Victor."

The third Stark sibling stood beside Frey, apparently the commander and mastermind of his plan. A young Frey daughter, with warm eyes and a curvaceous body, was holding onto the leg of the northerner.

"A marriage," Tristan replied curtly. "I assume."

"Yes," Lord Frey's voice drawled out through the hall, the young woman smiling up at her soon-to-be husband.

"Why?" Tristan focused on the Stark, irritated with Frey already.

There was a little bit of sorrow in the northerner's eyes, standing up with the girl clawing at his arm, wanting him to stay down with her. He shook her off easily and made to go over to Tully. "Truly, I do not want war with the riverlords," He said honestly. "You should convince your father to forsake Maegel's cause. He is closer to the grave than any of us, I fear."

Tristan simply grunted. "He won't," He replied. "Maegel has consolidated the Vale and is going to marry the lord's daughter. My father will wait for the Vale knights to come to his aid."

"Pity," Victor replied crisply. "Send him to Winterfell."

. . .

_Runestone (the same day)_

The attitude in the Vale was festive and bright. Lord Arryn had finally convinced his son to join up with Maegel and had ended the civil war brewing in the Vale. To celebrate, a wedding was planned between the young Vernal Arryn and Maegel Targaryen, to be administered in Runestone, where House Royce would host. They figured the Eyrie would be too distant a travel for some of their allies to all fit into, and House Royce had been very welcoming of the idea.

The guests had arrived, the banners of House Arryn, House Royce, and House Targaryen were all fluttering in the morning breeze. Luckily, they had been spared some of the colder weather to the east and north of them. Women were fluttering about, talking about how lovely it would be to see a King again in the Vale. Men were making advances towards whatever woman they could find, all waiting for the young Maegel Targaryen to arrive.

He was on horseback coming from Riverrun, and when the crowd saw him coming down the hill they cheered his name. Hastily, the Royces pushed Lady Arryn towards the stage where they would get married. Hesitant and shy, Vernal Arryn was just fifteen, with a missing eye and her black hair went down to the small of her back. That didn't make her unattractive by any means, as she was petite and had small curves that would no doubt endear her to the prince.

Swinging down from the horse, Maegel looked regal. A crown was sitting atop his blonde locks, and his armored chest made him look like a King. For a time, the Vale cheered his name as he went to go meet Vernal on the stage. A Royce passed him a Targaryen blanket, to replace the sky blue and white one that currently adorned his future wife.

Maegel stepped in front of the young woman, smiling fondly as she blushed and averted her eyes. He murmured something in her ear that the rest of the crowd couldn't hear, and placed the blanket around her shoulders. A thunderous roar echoed through the Vale that no doubt was heard as far as Gulltown and the Eyrie.

"To the King!" The cry went up and the true festivities began. Ale was passed around, with the King and Queen receiving the first glasses. To the Queen was an ale from Pentos, and the King received an Arbor gold. After downing it, men and women swept up the two and carried them towards the bedchamber they would use that day.

Testimonies would come out of that day saying that the first night had been successful and pleasurable for both parties, and the ladies especially said that the young Prince Maegel had given her a good tumble. They said the blushing girl would come out with a warm smile on her face as she went back to join the party. But the door stayed shut after that, and the King didn't reemerge. Only when a serving girl went to check on him did a scream echo from the chamber.

Maesters flew towards it, followed by Lady Arryn and her father. Inside was a half-dressed Maegel Targaryen laying on the bed. His eyes were shut, and his chest was unmoving. The gods had taken another Targaryen that day. Rumors swelled that Lady Arryn had been so atrocious that she'd killed him, or that her brother had killed him in cold blood. Some even say it was suicide. But as the crowd dispersed and went home, muttering their tales, Westeros would wake up to an entirely new dawn.

_**A/N: I've been away for a LONG time. And for that, I wanted to give some bigger parts of the story to get us going. I am going to leave the story open to submissions, so if you would like to submit more or want to join, go ahead! This story is rapidly evolving and people (obviously) will die. We will need characters all up and down Westeros. Come join us! To those of you that have stuck with me: thank you. I couldn't be more thankful that you stuck with me even through the long pause. I know where I'm going and I can't wait to see where it takes us!**_

_**Hestia**_


	8. Chapter 6: Turning Point

_**A Wilting Rose (SYOC)**_

_**A/N: Check out my note at the end about other GOT/ASOIAF SYOCS to check out.**_

_Chapter 6: Turning Point_

There was little time to mourn Maegel Targaryen in Riverrun. Armies closed in from both sides as Viserys' crownland soldiers marched north from Stony Sept, and the Starks came down from Stone Hedge. Axel Tully hadn't shown up with the remnants of the Tully army, and Tristan had been whisked away to Winterfell.

"Who's in charge here?" A man grunted as he tried to make his way through the throngs of soldiers that stood in his way. "Why are there so many damn people?" He definitely wasn't a riverman, wearing the golden lion of Lannister on his chest.

"The lady," One soldier told him. "She's in her solar."

"The lady," Desmond Lannister snorted. "There hasn't been a Lady of Riverrun in nearly two decades."

Still, he made his ascent up the steps towards the solar. He had been put in charge of trying to reason with Axel Tully, as there was no point in asking his sister Cerissa to do it, or his father Lyman. Both would only enrage the old, bitter fisherman. He knew that he disliked Lannisters, but at least Desmond's clear head would prevail compared to his sister's hot headedness and his father's stupidity.

"A guest for the lady?" One of the guards asked suspiciously as they glanced down at him.

"Yes," He responded, his golden hair falling over his forehead in a light swoop.

The door swung open, and he took a few steps in. Ah, he realized, now realizing what they meant by their lady. Celyne, his younger sister was standing at the window, staring out at the river beyond. He was struck by the fact that she wore a dress of deep blue rather than her usual red, feeling the most apart from her than he ever had.

"Celyne?" He asked in wonder.

She turned around and looked at him, her icy eyes looking him over. "You're not who I was expecting. I thought I'd get the pleasure of seeing my older sister. She's much easier to say no to, you know that."

Desmond sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Celyne, please. I'm saying this as someone who loves you and cares about you. Give up Riverrun. If you don't give it to us, the Starks will take it. Don't be foolish."

Celyne's expression soured as she stared at her brother. "Foolish? Is that what I am? Just some foolish girl playing at war? I am the Lady of Riverrun now."

Desmond growled in frustration, knowing that they had precious little time to act before the Northern armies were upon them. "You're a Lannister!" He all but shouted, looking at her. "From your hair to your eyes, head to toe, you are a Lannister of Casterly Rock."

Celyne put her hands on the desk that stood between them, her eyes bitter and cold. That struck Desmond, the first time that he had seen her truly angry in a while. At least, at him. That had been years. "Leave," Celyne demanded, pointing at the door. "I may have been born a Lannister, but my heart is Tully. All you care about are your mountains of gold, your precious notion of peace. You have to grow up, Desmond." She snarled.

He felt as though he'd been slapped, a lump in his throat as he started to turn. "They'll kill you, sister," Desmond whispered lightly. "Whether it be our forces or theirs. You will be dead before the day is done."

"I have a duty," Celyne's voice wavered. "To my House, to my husband, to this place."

"Celyne," He sighed.

Before he knew it, arms were being thrown around him, and his younger sister was clutching him like when she was a little girl. His heart warmed, falling to the ground with her, just holding her like he knew she needed him to. She didn't cry, or even tear up, but she just held onto him like she used to.

"It'll be okay," Desmond whispered to her, not entirely believing the words that were coming out of his mouth.

Celyne just nodded, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder as she thought about the days ahead. They sat there like that for about five minutes, just staying silent and listening to the other's heartbeat. After that, Celyne sat up. "Y-you should probably go," She said. "Tell them that Riverrun has not changed its mind."

"I ask once more," Desmond began but Celyne quieted him by holding up her hand.

"My mind is made up." She said. He took one last look at his baby sister and left.

As he walked past the groups of Tully soldiers, he was struck by how much his sister had changed. The willful girl that seemed to rule Casterly Rock, was still willful, but more in a determined manner now than it had been. That, and she was a Tully.

Inside the castle, one of Celyne's allies at court, Lord Bracken, escorted her down to the war council that had assembled. About half a dozen riverlords were there: Lords Bracken, Mallister, Smallwood, Piper, Roote and Darry were the ones that attended, with her seated at the head of the table. She shivered as she felt the weight of the seat, turning to look at the leaping trout etched into the wood. This wasn't meant to be her seat, but the seat of her husband's father, or even her husband.

"Our best hope," Lord Roote began to speak. "Is that the Northerners and Crownlanders obliterate each other equally, allowing us to keep a hold on Riverrun without even having to extend a foot."

Lord Mallister sighed. "I saw their force coming down near Seagard, as well as at the Twins. They've assembled a large force of Northerners, Valemen, and even some of our own. Lords Blackwood and Frey joined them, and lend some credence to their cause. Rumor has it that the Lannisters have been trying to use Westerland forces to invade the Reach. King Viserys is ill prepared for this, I daresay."

"Damned Blackwoods," Lord Bracken frowned.

"I say we give it to Lord Stark," Lord Smallwood argued. "They already have half of our force with them, a quarter of us were cut down at the Twins, and we have less than a quarter remaining of our relatively small force. Some have turned and ran as well, to whoever will give them a bit of coin."

It quickly devolved into opposing teams: Bracken and Piper saying they should join with Viserys, Smallwood, Roote and Darry arguing to join with the Starks, and Mallister saying they should try to hold the castle. "Enough," Celyne said finally, her ears ringing from the shouting that had ensued.

"We are not offering Riverrun to anyone," She said firmly. "This isn't their castle to hold. If they want it, they can take it." She stood up abruptly and left.

"My Lady!" Lord Bracken called as he attempted to follow her. "Slow down!" The plump man was wheezing as he finally got to her side, his dark hair sweaty already. But there was a flicker of confidence in his eyes that Celyne admired.

"You have to get out of here," He said in a low voice. "The future of House Tully demands it."

"The future of House Tully resides in Winterfell, my lord," Celyne replied briskly as she went to oversee the battlements, feeling the wind whipping through her blonde hair. "I can't speak to that."

"The future of House Tully resides in your belly, my lady," He said indignantly.

"What?" Her blood ran cold. "I-what do you mean?" She placed a hand on her stomach, not having believed anyone could see that she had started to gain weight.

His laugh cascaded through the air like a flock of crows. "Everyone knows that the most fertile being on this planet isn't the rabbit, it's the Tully. If he wouldn't have gotten you pregnant on the first night, I would've been surprised."

"I-" Her voice died in her throat and they stood there quietly for a few seconds.

"There's a boat, a small one, that can take you to shore, my lady. It should head west, where neither of the armies should be positioned. Go wherever you like, but remember that you hold the Riverlands in your hands. We believe in you." He told her fiercely. "We will fight for Riverrun, but you must fight for our future. Go."

They were both surprised when they heard the sound of horns in the distance, being able to see soldiers with glinting steel coming from the south. Viserys' armies were upon them.

"Go," He cried out urgently, pushing her towards the door. "Fly!"

Celyne, despite all her protests, ran at the behest of her bannerman.

. . .

_Highgarden_

Alisyn stood quietly on the balcony of her room, watching the scene unfold below her. Soldiers coming back from the war front, having been defending Red Lake from the Lannisters, the home of House Crane. She winced as she watched, seeing men with arms cut off, bleeding openly from wounds, only a few not injured at all, having been standing in as medics to bring them back.

Her hands softly rested on her swelling belly. She had already known that she was bigger than she had been when she'd had Jaeherys, despite being a few months behind that. She had been getting bigger dresses to accommodate it too. Alisyn refused to tell Roland it, but it had her genuinely concerned. She jested and teased that it was the Baratheon genes, but she was beginning to wonder if something was off.

She was startled out of her thinking when the door opened behind her, the creaking sound of it jarring her brain. Alisyn turned around and smiled when she saw her younger brother, Millard. Shyer, less confident of himself than most of her other siblings, he was smaller too. Brown hair that was a bit messy in the early morning, he looked like a true Tyrell, though.

"Good morning," Alisyn smiled, knowing that despite their relative closeness in age (21 to 15), they hadn't really known each other that well in their lifetime.

"Morning," He replied shortly, wearing a stiff shirt that had a covering over his neck. Few wore that kind of dress in the Reach, even if it was getting colder.

"Walk with me?" Alisyn asked, holding out her hand for his arm. He reluctantly let her, walking with her down to the field where the soldiers were amassed.

"Did we win?" She asked finally.

"No," Millard replied as he scanned the soldiers. "We were routed. They took Red Lake, are holding Lord Crane captive and are threatening to kill his wife. The kids were all sent back to the Westerlands to be taken in as wards. Prisoners, more likely."

Alisyn nodded. "And Roland?" She whispered faintly.

"Leading the vanguard back to Old Oak. There, some additional levies from House Hightower should arrive. At least, according to Ormund," He added quickly.

"Seems you're learning," Alisyn smiled over at him lightly. "Or at least paying attention."

"Yeah," His voice was faint, as if he was no longer paying attention to her. His eyes were looking at something in the distance.

Alisyn followed his gaze. The second son of Lord Hightower stood there, having been one of the ones leading the defeated armies back toward Highgarden. He had deep brown eyes and high cheekbones, a true knight of the Tower. And their cousins. "Millard," Alisyn glanced over at him. "We're related."

He turned back to her, startled. "Yeah?" He had forgotten that, the Hightowers rarely coming up to Highgarden and they never went to them.

Alisyn's warning was for naught, though, for she could see in his eyes that the Oldtown man was the one he'd set his sights on. "I'll introduce you," She smiled warmly, cutting the tension with ease as she escorted him over.

Ser Rewyn Hightower gave a courtly bow to Queen Alisyn, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "Enchanted, my Queen."

Alisyn grinned lightly at him. "Thank you. Ser Hightower, this is my brother Millard," She showed him to the ser.

Rewyn gave him a strict nod. "Brother to the Queen, of course."

Millard didn't offer any statement of his own, just staring blankly at the knight.

"I have a task for the two of you," Alisyn said, leading them both slowly towards where others couldn't overhear them.

"What is it, my Queen?" Rewyn's eyes were filled with concern.

"My son, Jaeherys, he...he is in Dorne," Alisyn looked at them. "We need him here. Your task is to infiltrate Sunspear, get him out, and sail for either Storm's End or for Oldtown. I fear…" She whispered. "That my time here is ending. The only way our cause moves forward is if we get Jaeherys back."

Rewyn nodded immediately, agreeing to whatever his Queen would ask of him. Millard wavered, not the kind for high-risk missions, but one look from those warm brown eyes and he gave a nod as well.

"Ride for Oldtown. A ship lies in harbor for you," Alisyn nodded. "Dismissed."

_**A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing. As I stated at the beginning of the story, I'm here to talk about some ASOIAF SYOCs that have popped up recently. They are: Era of Kings by A Terrific Acorn, Sky of Fire by Kay of Arda, and The Great Council by TheStormHunter. I encourage you all to check out all of them and submit to them all! I want to help out these guys as much as I can to make the genre grow :) IF you don't have enough time to submit to all of them, here's a handy guide to see what you may be interested in.**_

_**An Era of Kings: A bit later in the process, but still submittable for most slots. More war-focused than the other two, so if you like GoT for the war stuff, I'd recommend this one first. Focuses more on the War of Conquest, so if you like that, check it out.**_

_**Sky of Fire: Very beginning, like the Great Council. If you like stories with established mains and submitting around them to fill the story, this is a good one for you. Focuses a lot on family dynamics, so if you like that part of GoT, this is your cup of tea. Good, compelling characters as well.**_

_**The Great Council: This focuses more (at least in the beginning) on the more political aspects of GoT. Backdoor deals, statesmen, romance, the whole shebang. If you like the political undertones of ASOIAF, the Great Council is probably your starting point. Lots of room to grow the story from character submissions.**_

_**I recommend them all, so if you do have time, please check them all out. It's worth your time.**_

_**Until next time,**_

_**Hestia**_


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